


Those words that burn

by lightline



Category: In The Flesh
Genre: M/M, References to drugs and suicide, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightline/pseuds/lightline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they die, even the words will fade</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some words stay

When they die, even the words will fade.

When Kieren Walker receives the letter, his world shatters into a million fractured shards that cut. That bleed him dry of emotion, of laughter, of hope to the future. It all just seems so…pointless. The question of ‘why?’ rings in his ears, driving him near insanity as he waits for the pain to end, as he counts down to nothing. He is a shell of who he once was, even his sister not recognising this shadow of the boy who had laughed, who had read stories to her when they were younger, who had taught her to draw a little more than a stick figure in blanket forts and the den in the garden.

Though one thing is more important than the rest to the young man. The words. They do not fade and this angers him.

They laugh at him, the words on his collarbone, the elegant cursive that should have been _his_. Should have been Ricks. Should have been theirs to share. How could it not be? The phrase was so arbitrary, so mundane, that there was no doubt that the two friends shared it. For all their days together, it is undoubted that they have spoken this, from the very moment that Rick returned some of Kieren’s belongings at school. That spark that had ignited their friendship bringing promise and ambitions for the future despite their contrasting personalities. But how cruelly stolen, how cruelly ripped away was their chance. Their one shot at….something, just, something. Give it a go, go with the hormones. Steal away more moments in each others company. 

The frustration wells up inside Kieren as he struggles through his days, developing the habit of scrubbing at the words. Scrubbing them until his skin is red and raw. Just wanting to be free, just wanting an escape from the bonds of letters. But they still burn in place, even though parts are broken when it all became too much, when the scrubbing persisted too long.

It is a taboo in the household to mention the words, to mention anything to do with the solider. Even when they see the shake in the young man’s hands, the guilt in his eyes. They can’t do anything. They can only wait and hope, hope that he emerges from this endless ocean. 

But he has faced too much in his young life and ends it before anyone can react in a cave haunted by shattered glass and childish hopes.

\------

It’s the depth of summer when Simon sees the words fade a little, crouched in an alley way, rocking on his heels as he whistles out of tune. Waiting. Waiting.

At first he isn’t sure, the depth of the drugs digging into his brain, pushing through his thoughts and scattering them a million miles away. He trails a hand across his forearm absentmindedly, half expecting ink to come off on his fingers and stain them black. But it is as if they seep back into his bloodstream, find comfort with the rest of his shattered hopes, help numb the ache of his nerves, stem the feeling that all of this. All of this was just…pointless. 

But the rest of the thoughts are lost.

In a moment of lucidity, he revisits the notion of the words. He imagines what happened to the soul that was meant to be with him. Was it quick? Was it painless? It is is morbid to toy with such scenarios, but he can’t help but be curious, after all, this person, his other…. they have found their place in oblivion, have found the escape hatch that Simon has sought, has ached for since the beginning.

_Good on you._

There are a few other thoughts, dotted throughout the periodic table in which he indulges. Heroin….H. What hair colour did they have? Ginger? Blonde? Brown? Black? So many questions, so little time. So many answers that Simon Monroe will never no the answer of. 

It isn’t long until he is too found without a place in reality, lost in an alleyway with no details to his name but a handful of needles and a train ticket to nowhere. 

\------

Life becomes easier after a while, once the second wave of grief has released it’s claws from Kieren Walker’s back. There are the scars, there are the words, but yet he has made it and he can smile once again in the early morning mist. He finds comfort and solace in the fact his friend has returned to him, that he can enjoy her infectious happiness, can let it fill his heart and power him through the days.

It is what brings him here, to the graveyard where it all began, the promise to meet her new ‘Beau’ ringing in his ears. He briefly ponders if this is indeed Amy’s other, the replier to her question. He doesn’t know what or where her words are, preferring not to talk about the branding if indeed possible.

It’s just another part of him that he covers up with mousse, another part of him that he detests. 

Though it appears someone had reached his final resting place before him as Kieren sees a figure perched on his gravestone, staring out over Roarton valley with no consideration to where he has decided to locate himself. 

‘Excuse me, you’re sitting on my grave’ 

He waits for a reply from the intruder, hand nervously scrubbing again at the words, an unconscious movement.

\------

Simon Monroe wasn’t one to expect his life to begin again, to find place and purpose in a world of disarray and confusion. He didn’t expect to find comfort in the knowledge that people wanted to listen to him, wanted to find him to talk to, wanted to smile with him. He finds that he likes it, even though there are times he fears the worst, he fears they will see him for his living self, the druggie. 

He is at a time of peace after the havoc of his life. He is able to find beauty in the world that he had once thought was ugly, distorted and ruined by the actions of others. The Disciple has found this beauty again as he sits overlooking Roarton valley, admiring the consistency of nature despite the turmoil and prejudice of the village he knew far too much about despite barely a day being there. 

He has learnt not to think of the phrase on his arm, learnt to think of the bigger picture. The plight of the ULA and the Undead Prophet are more important to him than anything right now, more important than the phrase that is now darker than ever. That returned to him the moment he woke up in Norfolk. 

There were those brief moments of panic where he had thought that Amy believed he was the one. The way she attached herself to him, the way spoke as if they were together even though he sought for her to see that this wasn’t the case, that it wasn’t meant to be. But she was Amy, and she was happy in her disillusion and Simon did not have the heart to expose the truth. Their first words together weren’t the statement that were branded on his back, it had just been a simple introduction in the commune after church.

From the moment he had appeared, the phrase was deemed as odd, an inkling to the Rising before anyone knew what was going to shake the world. Simon now knows that he carried a warning to the world, a warning that had been dismissed.

He finds it odd when he can hear the words outside of his mind, a different voice stating the facts. He thinks at first that he’s left his sleeve rolled up, that it is someone simply reading it. But no, his coat and jumper hide it away from the world, away from prying eyes. Humouring himself, the Disciple turns to the owner of the voice, expecting pale skin and cracked eyes but finds himself confused, glancing between the gravestone and the sandy-haired man who holds dark brown eyes and golden skin which he soon deduces to be from the mousse. 

‘This yours?’

\------

The two sufferers of life regard each other in the midst of the morning, waiting for the other to speak further. Minds in unison, both thinking of the words that were gifted to them, branded onto their skin. One an artists scrawl and another an elegant hand with purpose and aim. Through all petty conversation and frowns that may follow, there is one single thought that runs through the minds, that sings in the air around Disciple and the Wanderer and will haunt them for the rest of the day.

_You?_


	2. That One Emotion

That first emotion when you see them, it will remain with you until the sun finally sets.

There is, of course, that clichéd belief that all will be well when you meet your other. That all the problems that have haunted your lives will evaporate disappear in a blink of an eye. That from that day and ever more, you will be complete, in body and in soul. 

The first emotion that hits Kieren is anger. It overwhelms him, causes his breath to hitch and his insides to recoil as he stares at the man. This stranger is the one who stole his moments with Rick, stole the closure that could have been gained if his soul had belonged elsewhere, had been sought by someone else. It is with almost burning certainty that he hates the thief, despite the anger being irrational in every sense. After all, the man has never had play with Kieren’s emotions up until this point, he did not kill Rick, did not know Rick, never would. 

But this anger, he knows that this is something that he cannot indulge himself in, allow himself to express. He must remain calm, must remain collected, he was here for Amy after all. He wouldn’t let her down. He couldn’t. Kieren will push through this encounter until the end, until he never has to see this person again. 

He thanks his stars he’s leaving for Paris, the new escape hatch for him, the new method out of this mess of a second life.

\--

Giddiness. Like a teenager. It is the first emotion that fills Simon Monroe to the brim, spilling into his long dead heart and stirring emotions that he had long destroyed with the help of powders and medicines of science. He isn’t sure why this is so, never really being the ‘hopeless romantic’ and being one to not dwell on the words right up until this very second. In all fairness, it scares him, these emotions. Ever since the events of his homecoming, he has been terrified of rejection, of the worst case scenario and this moment only makes him nervous. 

And this is why he spouts poetry, trying to think up of something to say to this young man. Try to cover up the fact that he can see the other man’s hand’s clench with some unknown trail of anger, the first sign of rejection. Maybe it was in reaction to the Disciple’s trespassing? Maybe this man, his….other, was just very protective of his belongings, still held the respect for the final resting place of many. But it was more likely his tactless comment on the cover-up, spurred on by the fact the Irishman didn’t realise, didn’t know that someone who was PDS could look so…terrified.

This is the one who will change everything, at least, that is what Simon hopes. 

\--

The girl with the effortless smile and the flowing skirts soon joins the two strangers, even though their stories have now become inextricably linked without them knowing. 

‘You guys have met!’ She smiles, in blissful ignorance of the thoughts racing between each of the men’s minds. It would hurt her to know, hurt her to know that they were always going to find one another even without her help. That their paths would cross eventually, even though it had taken an end an new beginning for it to be so. 

She already knows that ‘Mr.Disciple’ and ‘Morgeous’ were not hers; it’s a thought that has kept her awake at night, kept her tossing and turning. She knows because she lost her words, a simple ‘Is that you?’ a few days after her 19th birthday, had watched them fade from her palms as she had sat in hospital through another round of medicine, another round of pills and promises. That simple question had disappeared without a second moment, never to be rewritten. Unlike many, she remained positive throughout it, a bubble of happiness when many asked her questions. Asked her whether she was okay. 

Amy Dyer introduces the two strangers with ease, gesturing from one to the other. 

\--

Kieren Walker. 

Simon can’t help it as he internally lists every single fact he knows about his other. The facts have been told to him by the lake, by the fire, after church. They have been written on postcards that he has seen Amy pine over for days at a time, seen her frown at and worry about, seen her trek to the post box in the early morning to send more letters back to him. He knows how much she cares about this sufferer, this Redeemed. 

He knows Kieren Walker is an artist, that he hides from others, that he is close with his sister, that his Dad tried to get Amy to watch blue-rays at some point or another. 

It’s an intrusion, but one he can’t help. He yearns to learn more, wants to know what happened. Wants to know the answer to his questions formed in an alley way of drugs and despair. Wants to know why those words had faded into the oblivion on that stifling summers day. Amy never told him about that, never told him about those scars that ran across his thin wrists. 

But despite his ignorance, now that he sees him for his worth, the Disciple wants to keep him safe. An instinctual feeling that causes him to frown, unused to such emotion in such an intensity. 

\--

As the conversation progresses, it is clear to the girl that there her two best friends, her two ‘BDFF’s’ have not hit it off. They are as distant as the moon and the stars, the conversation forced and strained, spurred on by her helpful hints and her occasional comments which appease the both of them.

In a world where the unprecedented is the norm, it is unsurprising that the words that are marked on the collar bone and the arm are forgotten. Are left on the roadside to rot and decay. They don’t mean anything anymore, there is no sparks, no flash of realisation that many would assume. There is yearning from one participent, but the other is unresponsive. Too much has happened for this moment to be of any importance. It was not meant to be this way. 

For Kieren Walker, the words are just words and nothing more, and there is nothing that could be more heartbreaking than that for the Disciple. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this :)
> 
> Feel free to suggest any ideas


	3. Freedom is yours, my friend

Part 3:

 

To find your other is often seen as a method of freedom, a method of finding your true self. 

 

If Kieren Walker could be biting his nails, he would be. It’s a nervous habit that he had grown out of, but he seeks nothing more to refer to the comfort of the movement. He sits and stares at the tacked up paintings opposite his door with some sort of dazed expression. As if he can’t quite believe what his day has unfurled into. 

He’s been reunited with his friend, found his Other and lost his job in all of 24 hours, and it’s a lot to take in. 

He hadn’t meant to unleash that burning anger that had been sitting in his heart all day at Gary. Hadn’t meant to shove him into that table, cause Amy and that….Disciple, to react in quite such an explosive manner. He hadn’t meant to live up to the stereotype of his kind, hadn’t meant to lash out in such a manner. But now he sat with a pale streak against the mousse. His guise destroyed, his effort to integrate in tatters on the floor around him. The monster which keeps him up at night once again becoming part of his identity, despite spending 8 months trying to repress it all. Trying to appear…well….human. 

He knows it isn’t healthy, how he shies away from himself in the mirror, how he speaks the affirmations as if it is a challenge to see who can say them quickest. But he can’t help but feel that he is the monster under the bed, one that children are terrified of, the ones that _he_ is terrified of. He didn’t mean for it to be this way, but the events of the last year have amounted into this transformation. He wanted…wants to be normal, wants to make his parents proud. Wants to follow his dreams and hopes.

But it seems there are obstacles that even he can’t get over. 

In a burst of sudden movement, of sudden resolve, Kieren stands and heads to his wardrobe, ignoring the clear plastic bag and removing clothes, removing belongings he might need. He moves quickly, a wave of panic rushing over him like a tsunami. It is as if this is now his escape hatch from this hell in which he lives. A escape hatch that will not hurt, should bring hope to others instead. He just needs to be free of this valley, of it’s choking stronghold, of it’s talons that catch onto it.

For all the insistence of Halperin and Weston, perhaps it is not safe to stay in the place where you rested, some freedom you need to find on your own, without the help of others. 

\----- 

Kieren Walker perplexes the Disciple in every way. He doesn’t understand how the young man’s mind works. Doesn’t understand his aims, his goals, what drives him. 

For some reason, he had thought it would be so easy, that the questions would be answered easily. Perhaps he relied a little too much on those expectations of society when he was alive, perhaps he should of listened a little more to the scientific theory. 

He has played the scene in the Legion back a thousand times. It has caused him to drift out of focus at points, pulled back to the present day with a gentle shake of the shoulder from Amy, expression etched with worry that he reassures her out of. He tries with all his might to stay with her, to interact and appear alive, but the whole event captivates him even now. 

It was as if the village cracked in that Legion, as if old turmoil was resurrected and old quarrels were recreated. The Disciple had been surprised at the number of fault lines that existed, despite being informed of them prior to being sent. He hadn’t thought it was possible, that they had all tried to hide behind this guise of peace when it so obviously wasn’t the case. 

But out of everything, there is one being that stays in his mind more than anything. Kieren Walker. The flare of anger that had burst out of him like a firework, unexpected to both Disciple and Amy. The seemingly reluctant young man holding more emotion than he let on, holding more of a fight against the world than anyone knew about. Simon muses about it, finding himself amused. Incredible really, a survivor. 

For all the fight the young man has, however, Simon Monroe is still baffled. Baffled how the two of them are meant to see eye to eye when they share such juxtaposed ideas. One wearing a mask of their true self whilst the other exploits it, makes people scared. 

He just can’t understand. 

There is this burning idea to try and explain what happened in the graveyard to Amy, an idea that tries to drag him forwards but he knows cannot obey to it. The words she has spoken to him over the last few hours have confirmed only further that she likes him, would be with him if she could. If he showed any sign of reciprocated emotions. 

The freedom that Simon feels is an interesting one, one of answered questions and completeness. He has found solace in the idea that he knows his other rose again, that they seem to be in one piece after that summer evening. But the Disciple is acutely aware of the other questions he wants to know the answers to, wants to know what else happened to Kieren Walker between then and now. What destroyed the light in his eyes. 

\-----

Minutes pass in a rush of noise and effort before Kieren Walker finishes packing his life in a suitcase. There isn’t much to it really, a bundle of clothes, a couple of photographs, a postcard he will keep from Amy. The true value is in the portfolio, a record of his emotions. There are those portraits of happiness, of colour and smiles, there are those portraits of despair, charcoal and darkness. Depicting the roller-coaster that he unwillingly embarked on.

He has given up with following the normal path of life, wants to go off the rails. He doesn’t want to conform to the ideal of ‘others’ he doesn’t want to be with them. He wants nothing to do with them. But there is one thing that he does want, Kieren Walker just wants to talk to someone about all of this, follow his fathers advice of showing emotions. 

But he can’t. And for all the irony in this messed up world, he’s found his other and yet he’s never felt more alone about anything, never felt more trapped. 

He wants to ask what to do, explain those moments in the graveyard. But he can’t do it. He simply can’t. He cannot face the look on Amy’s face, he cannot bear the feeling of betrayal he would gain from telling Rick, he can’t imagine the expression of confusion on his fathers face. 

He can’t even tell Jem. The one he would turn to without a second glance in his living state. He swallows as he thinks about the distance that was created, the distance that he’s tried to claw back. 

‘You’ll be gone soon, don’t worry.’ He assures himself as he fastens the locks on the suitcase, as he rests his passport on top.

_You’ll be free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the feedback, it means a lot!


End file.
